Refraction
by Selina K
Summary: "This needy, wanton creature is not her." Set after the events of SW:TFA. Dream-sharing through the Force. Warning for dubious consent. Rating is M for a reason.
The dream landscape has changed.

Where once stood trees, rising high above her, their branches weighed down with snow, has been replaced by a vast, empty ocean. In the immeasurable distance the horizon bleeds into the red-tinged palette of a dawn sky. Pebbles, worn smooth by the tides, shift beneath the soles of her bare feet. And behind her—

The low, angry growl of a lightsaber, the heat from its blade searing the back of her neck.

"Yield, scavenger." The command, coldly delivered through the vocabulator, is curt. It is also, to her mind, pointless since she is missing her own weapon.

Along with, as a glance downward reveals, all of her clothing. She's no stranger to dreams like this; she'd had one the night before she gave her formal testimony on the events at Starkiller base to the Resistance leadership. But this is different. She is completely vulnerable. Exposed in all ways to a man whose hate can destroy an entire galaxy.

Rey waits for the rush of hot shame to flood through her, but it curiously doesn't come to pass. Instead a feeling of detachment sets in, as if all of this is happening to someone else other than herself. She realizes, almost immediately, that this is more or less the truth.

"This isn't my dream," she announces softly to the waves washing up the rocky beach to lap at her feet.

"No," Kylo Ren confirms amicably, as if they're chatting about something as trivial as the cafe with the best crumblebuns on Naboo. "It's mine."

She risks a beheading and looks over her shoulder, but only glimpses the unforgiving outline of his mask. "Strange. I would have thought that any dreams of yours involving me would feature more blood." Rey pauses, then adds after some thought, "More dismemberment."

"I have those as well. I quite enjoy the one in which I rip your still beating heart from your chest." After a moment his lightsaber falls silent. A step, then another brings him closer to her, enough to feel the ragged threads of his cloak brushing spider-light against her hip.

 _(The sensation should not leave her so weak-kneed.)_

A heavy weight settles on her shoulder; out of the corner of her eye she spies his gloved hand curling over her clavicle, much too close to her unprotected neck. Drawing in a shaky breath, she steels herself for violence. She does not need to. Instead, he turns his hand over and trails his knuckles over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm. "Though this is infinitely preferable."

Rey knows this much: a wet heat should not be blossoming between her thighs at his slightest touch, pulsing to the beat of her heart. Her breasts should not feel so full and aching, desperate for those cruel and impersonal hands. And she most certainly should not be delirious at the thought of his cock filling her.

No, this needy, wanton creature is not her. Only a reflection of Kylo Ren's twisted desire to master her completely.

Rey lets out a soft, hollow laugh. "I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise that you see me as nothing more than a bitch in heat panting for you."

Oh but he takes offense at that. She hears the hiss of the release latches on his mask, followed by a dull thud as it drops to the ground by her side. The last few inches separating them disappears as he forcibly hauls her back against the hard wall of his clothed body, one hand sliding over her abdomen to pin her in place, the other wrapping firmly around her throat to tip her head up.

"You are usually not so talkative," Kylo Ren all but snarls into her ear. Without the mask to modulate his voice, his irritation is as clear as the sun burning through Jakku's atmosphere and that pleases her to no end.

"No?" she asks breathlessly, letting some of her amusement seep into her voice. "You prefer the silent ty—" The rest of her words are drowned in a sharp gasp as a gloved hand rises to palm her breast. The low flame of her desire, simmering ever since she opened her eyes to this liminal place, roars into a full inferno. To her dismay her body arches up in a wordless plea for more, one that he answers willingly. He fondles her breasts leisurely, overly generous in his attention to her pebbled nipples. Under that seemingly indifferent touch she is made that wanton creature again, shifting restlessly in his embrace, a litany of bitten-off moans and whimpers spilling from her lips, with no thought other than a frantic need for him.

" _This_ is what I like to hear from you. Much better than your constant chatter." He sounds so insufferably smug, and if her muscles were capable of more than this shameless writhing, she would've stolen his lightsaber from his belt and added another scar to his face.

The only option left to her is a verbal assault. "I could recite the contents of a T-70 repair manual," she says in between heaving gasps for air. "More interesting than hearing me moan your name over and over."

"I am not opposed to placing a gag on you."

"That's one less hole for you to stick your c—"

"Enough!" The loose grip around her throat tightens into a choke hold, though not before a bark of laughter erupts from her. A part of her thrills to driven him to this point where his anger seems to have gotten the better of him, but her delight in her small victory is cut short when he says, "It seems that you've forgotten how I can make you bend to me with little effort."

It's not difficult to guess at what he intends. Still, she can't help but cry out in shock when Kylo Ren forces his hand between her thighs. Lacking any leverage to push his arm away, all Rey can do is slam her knees together, for all the good it does her. The palm of his hand curves over her mound, fingertips tracing idly along her slit. He makes no attempt to pry her legs apart, and she wonders why he isn't using his considerable strength to do so when he could easily make her suffer for denying him.

"I could," he acknowledges, confirming that like her body, her mind is his to play with. "Though wouldn't it be more _fun_ if you spread your legs willingly for me?"

She's already so wet that all it takes is a slight twitch of a finger to gently coax the swollen lips of her cunt apart and make her shiver.

"Open for me, Rey," he breathes against her sweat-dampened hair. A refusal hovers on the tip of her tongue, but the way in which he teases circles around her throbbing clit is too blissfully distracting. Instead she's reduced to mutely shaking her head, lips pressed tightly to prevent a moan from betraying her.

"Let me in," he continues in that coaxing tone, so different from his usual brusque manner that her head reels from the contrast. "You're all but begging for it." He doesn't bother to conceal his amusement; he's that certain of her inevitable defeat.

And he has every right to be. The frayed threads of her control finally slip through her fingers. Her surrender rolls through her in the loosening of her limbs, the choking sob that escapes her as her thighs fall open, the cant of her hips as she invites him deeper into her body.

He's ready for her. He works a thick, gloved finger inside her, the raised seams dragging agonizingly slow along her slick flesh. She clenches around him, chasing the sensation of fullness. _More_. She needs more. He pulls out and on the next slide in two of his fingers fill her greedy cunt. The stretch of them forces a keening cry from her.

It feels too good, Rey thinks despairingly as her head falls back on his shoulder. _He_ feels too good. With every rough thrust of his fingers –three now, _your sweet cunt has earned it_ , he tells her— Kylo Ren sinks deeper into her bones, into the fabric of her very being until she fears that she won't ever be free of him.

His answer is a bruising kiss to the line of her jaw. "Only fair," he murmurs, hot against her skin. "Since I'll never be rid of you."

"I could kill you," she offers with a shaky laugh, ignoring the strange twist in her gut at his confession. "It's an easy solution."

"You can try." He withdraws from her, but before she can even whine at the loss, he captures her aching clit. Plucks at it mercilessly until she's shaking with the need for release. "Do you think you'll be able to bury your lightsaber in my chest when all you can think of is how good my cock will feel inside you?

She lets fly a string of curses, some in languages she'd thought long forgotten.

"Clearly your creativity hasn't suffered with your pathetic upbringing," is his mocking response. Any snappy retort she may have made is lost when his fingers find their way back inside her. Her moans barely mask the wet, lewd sounds of her arousal as he roughly pumps them in and out of her. She should be embarrassed at how much she wants this, but Rey has gone beyond the point of caring. All that matters now is her orgasm coiling at the base of her spine. She's almost there, she just needs—

"Please," she begs in a broken whisper, face buried in the rough wool of his cloak. A few heartbeats pass before he gives in to her desperate plea, twisting his fingers just so, pressing up on that sensitive spot inside her. Rey shatters, in the best and worst possible way, drowning in wave after wave of white-hot pleasure. Her lips part—

And her screams are muffled when his hand slides from her throat over to her mouth.

"Quiet now. You wouldn't want your friends to hear you screaming my name."

She barely registers his warning when she surfaces into the cold reality of her bed, a fist held tight against her mouth. She has a brief moment of panic –she shares a room with one of the ground techs— before rolling over and nearly fainting in relief at finding the bunk next to hers empty.

Exhausted, she collapses back onto the mattress and pulls a pillow over her face. Her body is still thrumming with nervous energy, as if her orgasm wasn't enough. She thinks about slipping her hand between her thighs and wringing another one out but doing so feels like admitting defeat. And she's had enough of that.

Rey doesn't have to look at the chrono on the wall to determine that it's much too early to be walking around the base. And she doesn't dare go back to sleep. Not yet anyway.

Resigned to spending the next few hours awake, she wearily tosses the blanket off her and fumbles around for her pants.

She can only hope that the third shift crew is willing to share their supply of caf with her.


End file.
